The Therapist Thought Doing a Collage Might Help Me Understand Me Better, by Richard Allen Taylor

Ellen T. Johnston-Hale Contest for Light Verse, 2010 Third Place

Richard Allen Taylor
THE THERAPIST THOUGHT DOING A COLLAGE MIGHT HELP ME UNDERSTAND ME BETTER

The melange of images begins with a tiny human
climbing a mountain of sand that leads to a cave
that leads to a highway that pauses by a pepper red
fire hydrant which mysteriously brings to mind my 401(k)
and how it has stood patiently though visited often by the dogs
of the stock market. It sits just across from the face of time,
a Rolex, of course, so precious ins the currency
it counts. Near the upper left corner is Wyoming
which ends in a plateau that drops into a canyon as deep
as hell, where an Energizer battery fuels a chipmunk that almost
looks like a bunny–just pretend it is a bunny. Parts of the face
of a fashion model from an Oil of Olay ad are pasted all over,
an eye to the East, one to the West, lips to the South
where Georgia might be, if this were a map,
(and a map it may be), and she might represent
the scattered and divided way love can show up, or she might
just be filler. If only I could read the routes and lines
that take me from one state to another. I ride a deviled
egg from Boston to Maine, then turn South again
to a vase of yellow flowers that no one ever gave me,
ever, and I am pleased to see a fine green bottle
of Chardonnay at hand, though the collection of ancient
gold pieces reminds me of the fortunes I never had
and may never have again, but all in all, this cutting
and pasting has been meaningful, a story
with wine and women. But maybe I should have
riffed through more magazines,
as what seems to be missing is the song.